


A Yearning So Deep

by TheWeirdDane



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Collars, Cunnilingus, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Angst, Mevolent is Not A Nice Man, Not Happy, Vaginal Fingering, but i love him all the same, hoohh boy where to start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 17:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20139109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: You're a mortal slave for Mevolent, and though he is the world to you, you are but a pawn in his games. What will it take for you to learn?





	A Yearning So Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Aight, so for this one - PLEASE read the tags and warnings!

It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to walk into the tent where Mevolent was planning his next assault on the force known as the Dead Men. From what you knew - which, granted, wasn’t much - it was no more than a small group of regular sorcerers. Yet, for some reason, they were renowned and infamous for their actions in war. So, certainly, they couldn’t be ‘regular’, or they would have been taken down already. 

But Mevolent seemed to consider them a great deal, always mulling over how to take them down. 

It was your finest task to ensure that he always managed to relax and find the calm that had brought him and his forces so many victories. 

So, really, it wasn’t an ‘accident’ that you had entered this tent. You knew that Mevolent was starting to boil over, could feel it like an extra sense, a tickling in the back of your head. 

And you were right; just as you moved the tent flap out of the way, Mevolent smacked someone. The man didn’t even flinch, simply stood there and took the smack like a professional. Which he, of course, was. 

“My lord,” you said softly and came up behind Mevolent. You didn’t touch him, not yet. Mevolent was very adamant that no one touch him unless he gave the order or accepted your gracious offer. So, you did just that - you waited for him to face you before you kneeled in front of him. 

“May I suggest that we retreat to your quarters, my lord?” There was no way to hide what you meant, and even if there was, Mevolent’s people were brighter than most. They would know what you meant no matter how you put it. 

Mevolent looked down at you, eyes hard and jaws clenched tight. He was very clearly very overloaded with work and talk about strategies and tactics. One of his hands rested on the table with the map, the other hung alongside his body, clenched into a light fist. Then he smiled, a smile devoid of warmth, and reached that hand to touch your face. 

His hand was gloved and cold, but you leaned into the touch on instinct and never took your eyes off him. As he looked down at you, his eyes seemed to soften the slightest bit before he looked around on his men. They immediately stood to attention, and their focus was back on Mevolent. 

You knew they had been looking at you, and you also knew that Mevolent wasn’t above letting them have a little taste. More than once, Mevolent’s men had been privileged enough to fuck you. It hadn’t been exactly pleasant or fun, nor were they focused on getting you off, but you had allowed it because if you hadn’t, you would have been killed. 

Mevolent prided himself in his pet’s obedience. 

“I think we have found our solution,” he said, dragging out the words and looking down at you. The cold smile widened until his lips parted to reveal his teeth. It wasn’t a pleasant or reassuring grin, far from. 

“My lord?” said one of his men on a questioning note, gaze flickering between Mevolent and you. Mevolent tore his eyes from you and looked at him. 

“Fetch the shackles. Oh, and the collar.”

Your throat constricted. The collar. You liked the collar, liked feeling like his plaything, liked the heavy weight. It wasn’t a small, innocent collar - it was a big iron thing that closed tightly around your neck and made it slightly harder to breathe. 

It was fantastic. Intoxicating, even. 

The shackles, however. Those you weren’t a big fan of. They restricted your movements and were heavy around your slender ankles and wrists. Made it difficult to do anything. 

You remained on your knees as another man retrieved the collar and shackles. The metallic clanking of the restraints made your heart skip a beat or two, and you automatically put your hands behind your back. You looked lovingly up at Mevolent who had turned his face away to make sure that everything went according to plan. 

The man with the collar and shackles came over and placed the cold, unforgiving metal restraints around your wrists and ankles. The collar was given to Mevolent - it was only him who was allowed to put it on you. A  _ very  _ strict rule that he was  _ very _ adamant about maintaining. It had been like that for as long as you could remember, since he had caught you and held you as a prisoner of war. 

Nobody had tried to save you. Your family had been killed, and your friends had probably suffered the same fate. Mevolent’s forces had just been too strong. And now you were here, his personal slave, and you thanked him every day for keeping you alive and treating you as well as he did. 

Because he did. He might let his men have fun with you every once in a while, and he might not be gentle when he himself enjoyed you, but he made sure you got fed and that you always had clothes on your back. He made sure that you always had access to clean water. Occasionally, he let you sleep in his bed, even when he wasn’t there. On those occasions, you would curl up with the blankets and furs and inhale his scent - strong and heavy, enough to give you a headache. But you cherished it, nonetheless. 

The collar was placed almost gingerly around your neck and locked in the back. His fingers grazed your skin and made goosebumps erupt all over your body. You heard a faint chuckle from him. 

“Come, stand,” Mevolent said, and his voice had dropped slightly, was now dark and deceptively kind - something you knew he  _ was not _ . He might have rescued you from the claws of war, but you knew that it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart, but rather because he didn’t want to be bored, and because he needed someone to help him relieve him of his stress. 

Nonetheless, you stood on slightly shaky legs and craned your neck to look at him. Once you had found your balance, he got a hold of your arm and led you out of the tent. He took you to the forest just outside their camp. It was hard to walk with your ankles shackled, but he was sweet and waited for you. 

Ever the gentleman. 

When you were deep in the forest, he stopped moving, and so did you. He turned to face you and stroked his gloved fingers down your cheek. As in the tent, you leaned into the touch, and he smiled. 

“Just stay here, okay?” he whispered and leaned in, kissing your cheek lightly. You nodded and looked after him as he started trudging back towards the camp. You weren’t entirely sure how you staying here was meant to help Mevolent win the war, but then again, you weren’t good with strategies and tactics. But you trusted him.

Which proved to be a mistake. 

Your legs started trembling, and you were getting antsy. You sat down on a tree stump and looked around. There seemed to be no one. But you knew that the enemy could disguise themselves by manipulating the air. Being mortal, you had no magic yourself. You had no way of defending yourself if something or someone decided to attack, especially not when your hands and feet were tied. 

Suddenly, you felt something approach, and you whirled around to look in its direction. What you saw made your jaw drop. 

A skeleton came walking towards you. It was dressed in a leather military uniform and walked as smoothly as any human. It wore a hat. But there was no denying that the skull was visible. Deep, black eye sockets, a hole to the nose, gleaming white teeth. It really was a living, moving skeleton. 

Skulduggery Pleasant. If the Dead Men had a leader, he would be the one. 

You gave a short shriek and got up, stumbling back and away from him. He continued his slow and unhurried advance.

He stared back at you, his head cocked slightly to the side. It seemed to take forever before he made a hand gesture in the air, and behind him, a small group of men appeared. Your focus was torn between the skeleton and the group of newcomers. 

“Get away from me,” you whispered and took a few small steps back. The skeleton stood still, and the other men walked up behind him. You couldn’t see them in the dark, but you had a feeling they could see you perfectly. 

“We could help you,” the skeleton said, and his voice was smooth, so smooth, and beautiful. You immediately took a liking to it, and immediately scolded yourself for it. 

“I don’t need your help. My lord will come get me soon,” you said resolutely. 

“Is that so? He has left you in the middle of the woods, on enemy territory, for two hours and twenty-five minutes now. I don’t think Mevolent plans on rescuing you.” The skeleton talked calmly and had his arms folded over his chest as he appeared to take you in. 

A snarl curled your lips, but sudden fear gripped your heart tightly.

“You’re wrong!” you barked and tried to suppress the fear and anger welling up in your chest. You took another step back, and this time, the skeleton moved with you. 

“Let us take care of you,” he said, “we won’t treat you like Mevolent does.”

You shook your head firmly. 

“My lord treats me better than I deserve. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Don’t see it like you losing him as much as him losing you,” Skulduggery said and took a few quick steps forward, too fast for your brain to comprehend. When he stood in front of you, your blood turned to ice, and it suddenly got very hard to breathe. The collar didn’t exactly help. 

“Get away from me,” you tried again, but the skeleton simply undid the clasp on the collar and pulled it off, threw it to the men behind him. A big and broad man grabbed it, and when he moved forward to do so, his head became visible. It was littered with long, symmetrical scars, and you couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp. You quickly clamped a hand over your mouth, but the man simply gave a wry smile and shrugged.

“Think nothing of it,” he said. You nodded slowly and tried so hard not to stare at his horrendously scarred face. You succeeded somewhat. 

“See? We’re the good guys.”

“Actually, Skulduggery, I think that depends on what side you’re on.”

The skeleton’s head swivelled. 

“Does it? I thought everyone just agreed that we’re the good guys.”

“Well,” the scarred man said and started to look uncomfortable, “I wouldn’t say  _ everyone _ , but our side sure thinks we’re the good ones.” 

You took a few tentative steps backwards. Tried to see if these strange men would notice amidst their arguing. You didn’t get far - a branch got caught in your shackles and you fell on your ass with a shrill shriek. Immediately, the skeleton’s attention was back on you, and he bent down in front of you. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Wouldn’t count on it,” you snarled. He shrugged.

“That’s not going to stop me.” 

You were prepared to bite him or spit in his eye socket, should worse come to worst. He leaned forward and way into your personal space, and while your throat constricted again, you gathered a sizeable ball of saliva in your mouth, and you were ready to spit it in his face when you felt the shackles on your wrists fall away. 

Your eyes widened, and you stared up at him with your mouth slightly agape. But he didn’t pay you any attention, instead retreated enough to work on the shackles around your ankles. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked on a shaky whisper. Your heart was pounding aggressively in your chest, and you could hear the blood thundering in your ears. Skulduggery shrugged again, and after a few seconds of fumbling with the clasp, the cold metal fell to the ground. 

“I told you. We’re the good guys. Rescuing people is what we do.” He got up and brushed dirt and twigs from his legs. You still hadn’t moved except for bringing your hands into your lap. You realized how cold you were and looked over your shoulder. Mevolent’s camp was so far away that you couldn’t see it. 

Then you turned your attention back to the men in front of you. It seemed impossible that someone would come ‘rescue’ you. You didn’t need rescuing - Mevolent would get you soon. You had no idea why he would leave you in the middle of the woods and then go back, but you were certain there was a good reason. Mevolent never did anything without a good reason. 

Slowly, you got up and brushed your short dress clean of dirt. It wasn’t a dress as much as it was a simple piece of cloth that was tailored to your body, but Mevolent had given it to you, and so, you treasured it dearly. 

“What will you do if I go back to him?” you asked, wary of the reply. They would probably kill you on the spot. They couldn’t risk that you would tell Mevolent about them. 

Skulduggery shrugged again and folded his arms, his head tilted slightly to his right. 

“If you want to go back to Mevolent, we can’t stop you. But rest assured, he won’t be pleased to see you. Don’t you see that you don’t mean anything to him? To him, you’re nothing but a toy. He left you here in the hopes that we would come along and take you with us.”

“No!” you shouted, anger starting to bubble in your chest. Your heart no longer beat with the ferocity and power of fear, but rather with annoyance,  _ anger _ , that someone who didn’t know Mevolent would even pretend to. There was so much to his character, and you prided yourself in being the only one who had gotten close to him. 

“Mevolent doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Skulduggery said, and you shook your head. 

“You’re wrong!” you shouted and began stumbling towards Mevolent’s camp. 

“Please don’t go back.” It wasn’t Skulduggery, but rather the scarred man talking, his voice raspy and easy to recognize. You didn’t listen - instead, you started running. You were clumsy at first, as if you had forgotten how to use your feet, but as you advanced on the camp, you got more confident. The twigs and small stones in the undergrowth hurt your bare feet, but you didn’t pay much attention to that. All you cared about was getting back to Mevolent and feeling his strong arms and inhaling his scent. 

You did get to do both those things, albeit not in the way you had expected.

The beating you got was severe. You felt his strong hands punch you, and all the while his scent overwhelmed you. You whimpered and cried and asked for forgiveness, and when your arm was pulled out of its socket, you screamed his name. He looked like he was ready to inflict much heavier damage on you but decided against it. Instead, he left you on the cold, hard ground in the middle of the camp and went to his own tent. 

You rested on the grass that night, crying and sniffling and trying desperately not to move your arm. But the slightest movement made fresh tears well up into your eyes, and you forced back the sobs that wrecked your body. 

It wasn’t easy to sneak out of the camp. You had to get past several guards, and with a dislocated arm, it was no small feat to keep quiet. Every single, tiny motion made your stomach lurch, and you had to fight back balls of bile from rising up in your throat. Tears blurring your vision, you managed to stumble into the forest and to the approximate spot where you had met Skulduggery and what you wanted to say were the Dead Men. 

You had been so close to them. You knew it was probably impossible, but you felt like you could at least have  _ tried _ to take out one of them. How hard could it be to overpower a simple skeleton? Dislocate his head from his shoulders, and that should be it, right? You could have made Mevolent happy, could maybe have played an important role in ending the war. 

But had you  _ tried _ ? No, and you internally scolded yourself as you sat down on a tree stump, biting your lower lip to try and stop the sniffles from overpowering you. 

Mevolent had been displeased. Severely displeased. You had failed him. It was only fair that he beat you. There was no reason for you to be upset. 

With your still functioning hand, you angrily wiped away the tears that never seemed to stop coming. They were heavy and warm, rolling down your cheeks in never-ending streams that stained your skin. You were about to head home again, mentally preparing yourself for another beating for running away, when you heard a soft, velvety voice somewhere behind you. 

“Come. Let me fix your arm. It will hurt, but it will hurt more if you don’t.” 

You turned your head, knowing full well who it was. 

Skulduggery Pleasant looked at you with… sympathetic eye sockets. Was that even possible? Were you imagining things? Was the pain finally making you delirious and out-of-touch with reality? Either way, he looked like he felt genuinely sorry for you. Something you hadn’t expected - you were enemies by definition. You were on Mevolent’s side, and he was not. 

The skeleton slowly walked close to you and took your good hand in his own. He wore gloves, and his hand was surprisingly warm. You glimpsed his wrist and the many small bones that made it up, caught sight of the ulna and radius. It should have terrified you - this was a living, talking skeleton! - but instead, you let him pull you close, and you let him lead through the forest. You walked in silence, save for your occasional whimper or sniffle. When you reached another camp, your gut instinct was to turn around and run away. 

But you didn’t. You stayed with Skulduggery despite feeling like you were greatly betraying Mevolent. 

The camp was small, smaller than Mevolent’s, and lit up by a small campfire. Around this sat several men, deep in conversation. One of them looked up when Skulduggery and you got close. He didn’t appear alarmed or surprised to see you. Rather, he smiled and was about to get up when Skulduggery shook his head. The man sat down again. He was handsome, with a warm and pleasant smile, and his eyes glistened faintly in the light from the campfire. 

He gave a single nod to you, and you felt a light blush crawl onto your face. He grinned and then returned to the conversation. They spoke quietly enough that you couldn’t hear the topic. 

“Over here,” Skulduggery said in that deep, pleasant voice and led you to a tent. It was considerably smaller than any of the tents at Mevolent’s camp, but you didn’t mention that. Didn’t exactly think it would be well received. The tent was sparsely decorated with only two items - a cot to one side and a desk to the other. 

Skulduggery gently led you to the cot and made you sit down. Tears stained your cheeks and pricked your eyes. Your arm still hurt, worse than any kind of pain you had previously experienced. Yet you didn’t think it was unfair. You had gone against your lord’s wishes, and you hadn’t even brought him good news. Of course, you were going to be punished. It was only fair, only just. 

The skeleton went to the desk and grabbed what looked like a bunch of small leaves, then came back to you. He knelt in front of you, and once more, you swore that his eye sockets looked sympathetic, even sorry. 

“Take this and chew it. It will numb the pain,” he instructed and took hold of your injured hand. Your eyes widened and you shook your head even as you started chewing on the leaf. The effect was almost immediate - the intense, throbbing pain gave way to a duller ache. But when Skulduggery lifted your arm, you couldn’t hold back a sharp scream, and you closed your eyes, turning your head away. 

He lifted your arm and rotated it around your shoulder joint, and you chewed frantically on the leaf, tears still falling. You managed to sob out a “It hurts,” to which he replied, “I know,” in the softest voice possible. Skulduggery worked for a few minutes, two, maybe three, before you felt  _ something _ other than the dull pain. He gingerly placed your hand back on your knee. 

“Try moving your fingers,” Skulduggery said gently, and you shook your head. You really didn’t want to experience any more pain. You had had your fill for the day. 

“Please.”

You looked at him with wet eyes and blurred vision and shook your head again.

“It hurts,” you whispered, voice hoarse. Skulduggery reached up a hand and stroked your hair gently. Immediately, you leaned into the touch with a soft sound. 

“I know. But if we don’t get this fixed right away, it will only get worse,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry for you and your situation. You looked at him for a long moment before biting your lower lip and closing your eyes, willing your fingers to wriggle. 

And they did. It hurt, but you could definitely feel your fingers tapping against your kneecap. Once more, tears sprang into your eyes, but this time, it was from joy. 

“Thank you,” you whispered and opened your eyes to peer at the skeleton. His skull didn’t betray a single emotion, but his tone did. 

“You’re welcome.” His voice was warm and pleasant, and he stroked your hair again. As before, you leaned into his gloved hand. You were pretty sure he would have smiled if he had had lips. As it was, you could only see his many teeth and the hole for his nose and his big, empty eye sockets. It should have been unnerving, but you found it oddly charming. 

“You need a sling,” he said after a little while in silence, “take off your dress.” You stared at him in wide-eyed surprise, bordering shock. 

“Are you crazy? Actually, no, I’m the crazy one for talking with a skeleton. Granted, it talks back, but I’m still talking to it. That must make me crazy!”

“The only reason I would consider you being crazy,” Skulduggery said, as calm as ever, “is if you wanted to go back to Mevolent after this. Do you want to go back?” 

You didn’t know what to answer. Part of you yearned desperately for Mevolent’s touches and heavy scent, yearned for his stern and commanding voice that would tell you what to do. Another part wanted to have nothing more to do with him ever again. And you didn’t know which part was stronger. You couldn’t make a decision right now. Everything was too much, and you were still in pain, even if it was slowly subsiding. 

So, you didn’t reply. Instead, you kept wiggling your fingers. Even tried moving your arm. It brought sharp jolts of pain, but you preferred this rather than not being able to move your arm or hand at all. 

“Sleep on it,” Skulduggery offered and gestured to the cot you sat on. You nodded sheepishly and looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry,” you mumbled and then looked away, as if his eye-less gaze was too much for you. 

“Think nothing of it,” he said and got up, “I’ll let you sleep, then. I can only assume that Mevolent didn’t let you sleep as much as you need.” 

You caught yourself halfway through a nod, then shook your head. 

“My lord always wanted me alert and attentive.” 

“You won’t be alert and attentive if you don’t get enough sleep. But I’ll digress. Sleep, and I’ll check on you tomorrow.” You nodded and lay down on the cot, cradling your arm. It may be healed, but you were still anxious about it. 

You finally fell asleep and had dreams - nightmares? - of Mevolent beating you. Hitting, kicking, breaking limbs, tearing limbs from their sockets. Mevolent’s scent overwhelming you, filling your nostrils and making you both calm and terrified. Mevolent’s voice booming in his tent, stern and commanding, ordering you to strip and get onto the cot. Mevolent’s body looming over your as he undressed himself and penetrated you. He wasn’t gentle - not that he ever was - and tears streamed down your face. 

A hand shook you, and you instinctively screamed and tried to roll away even as you were pulled back to reality. 

“It’s me,” said a smooth, velvety voice, and you struggled to focus, finding that your vision was blurred with tears. You lifted a hand to wipe them away, but Skulduggery was faster. His hand was gentle as he brushed the tears from your face, and despite having no facial features, he exuded sympathy. 

You sniffled softly, and he kept wiping the tears away. 

“Nightmares?” he asked softly, and you nodded. “I know them all too well.” You wanted to ask what his nightmares were about, but you didn’t dare. It was too personal, and you didn’t even  _ know _ him. Despite this, he sat with you for a few minutes until you had your breathing under control. Then he invited you outside where his friends, the Dead Men, were eating breakfast. 

From the very get-go, they seemed to accept you. They didn’t question you whether you wanted to return to Mevolent or not. They didn’t ask how long you had been in his service. They didn’t inquire about your relationship. They simply talked about whatever came to mind and made sure to include you as much as you seemed comfortable with. One thing they didn’t talk about when you were around, however, was the war. No doubt they were cautious of you and didn’t want to risk you running back to Mevolent with their plans. 

You quickly took a liking to all of them, but especially the man with the scarred head, Ghastly Bespoke, and the walking, talking skeleton, Skulduggery Pleasant. Their banter was so easy and effortless, and their aura was comforting. All of them were handsome in their own way, but there was one man, specifically, who caught your attention. Dexter Vex was his name, and you were sure that he flirted with you on multiple occasions. Both when you two were alone, and when you were all together. It always made you blush, which in turn made him chuckle. Not mockingly, but in a warm and kind way. 

As each day passed, you got more comfortable around them, and you found yourself liking their company. But even so, a part of you still wanted to go back to Mevolent and his people. Some nights, it was hard to sleep, and on those nights, you sought out the comfort of Skulduggery Pleasant. As a result of being a skeleton, he didn’t need sleep and had given his cot to you, and at night, he kept watch over the camp or meditated. When he sat by the campfire, you would sometimes come over, wrapped in the thin fabric that made a blanket, and sit down beside him. Lean against him and let him pull you close. 

It was on one such night that you sat with him. Staring into the dancing, twisting flames of the campfire and leaning against his side. It wasn’t until an hour had passed that you found your lips pressing against his shoulder. He seemed to stiffen, and you immediately pulled back. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you mumbled and looked away. Heat spread across your face, and it wasn’t just from the fire. Skulduggery didn’t answer, simply looked at you in a most curious way. 

You sat in awkward silence for thirty minutes or so before the embarrassment became too much for you, and you got up, mumbling a timid “Good night, Skulduggery,” to which he inclined his head in a single nod before gazing into the fire again. 

When you once more lay in your cot, you pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, sighing deeply. You had no idea what had come over you in that moment. Maybe you longed for a deeper, more intimate touch? Maybe you yearned for someone to take  _ good _ care of you? In the time you had been with Skulduggery and his friends, you had come to realize what it meant to be taken care of. It didn’t involve forced sex with anyone. It didn’t involve snarky comments in your direction. It didn’t involve being beaten halfway to death. You felt certain that if anyone could and would take good care of you, it would be the Dead Men. 

You were drifting off to sleep when you felt the fabric of the cot dip, and you sat up as if pulled by a wire. 

“It’s alright, it’s me,” said the unmistakable voice of Skulduggery, and he put a bony hand on your shoulder in a soothing touch. Relaxing, you sighed and rubbed your eyes. 

“What is it?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with almost-sleep, and looked at the skeleton. After having rubbed your eyes, your vision was a little blurry, but you could see him, nonetheless. He didn’t answer. Instead, he scooted closer and leaned down until his face was mere inches from yours. The implication almost made your heart skip a beat, and your eyes widened. But you didn’t want to be presumptuous. 

His teeth pressed against your cheek. They were cold and hard - as teeth were - and yet, the gesture made heat spread across your face. The teeth lingered there for a few seconds before Skulduggery pulled back. 

“Will you allow me to join you?” he asked, voice soft and velvety. You nodded, a tad sheepishly, and moved so he could lie beside you. He radiated warmth, and you wanted to curl against him but didn’t. Rather, you lay on your back and stared at the tent canvas, your heart thumping rapidly against your rib cage. It had felt good when he kissed your cheek, and you knew that you wouldn’t mind if he did it again. You would even allow him to kiss you on the lips. 

You turned your head and was about to ask him why he had kissed you, but you didn’t get that far. When your head turned, his face was right there, and he took the opportunity to kiss you again. This time with his cold, unyielding teeth pressing against your warm, soft lips. Your heart picked up its already impressive pace, and you swore it could be heard in the silent night. 

With a slightly trembling hand, you reached up to stroke his skull. It was smooth and round and oddly warm. For some reason, you had expected it to be as cold as his teeth, but it wasn’t. Maybe it was magic? You wrote it off as magic and smiled against his teeth. It wasn’t as weird as you would have thought. He didn’t smell like a skeleton should - rot and decay and old bones - but rather like a gentleman. A subtle, classy cologne, leather grease, a faint whiff of gunpowder. 

Skulduggery hummed low in his throat - how that was possible with no vocal cords, you did not know, and you did not care - and moved an arm over your waist, hauling you closer against him and making you squeak a little. You blushed and closed your eyes, pressing yourself against his warm, firm body and snaking your arm over him. 

“May I touch you?” he asked after a long minute. You bit your lower lip and withdrew slightly. On one hand, there was nothing you wanted more than to be touched in such an intimate way. But on the other, you were so used to rough, violent touches that the thought scared you. 

Sensing your apprehension, Skulduggery held you close and stroked your back up and down in slow, soothing motions. You did end up curling against him, head tucked under his chin, and he chuckled softly, kissed your hair. You eventually drifted in and out of sleep, greatly helped by his soft breathing. You were pretty sure he didn’t even need to breathe.

“It’s okay, you know,” he said gently and moved his hand into your hair to stroke it, “I can understand why you’re hesitant to let anyone touch you after what you’ve been through.” You nodded and looked up at him through your eyelashes. His face looked oddly sympathetic. 

“It’s scary,” you whispered and noticed your hand trembling. He nodded and rubbed your scalp with his thumb, still humming softly. 

“I understand. Would you rather I leave you be?”

“No!” you quickly blurted out and curled your fingers in his clothes, “I mean… if you don’t want to be here, I can’t blame you.”

He chuckled quietly and lifted your head with a finger to kiss you again. It seemed to melt all your worries away. Your hand stopped trembling, and your breathing became more even. Yet your heart was still thumping aggressively, beating as if struggling to free itself. 

You returned the kiss, pressing into that and his body. 

“You… you can…” The words died on your tongue, and your throat constricted. You tore your gaze away from his big, empty eye sockets and instead lowered it to somewhere around his jaw. He nodded, clearly understanding what you were trying to say, but didn’t immediately do it. He stroked your hair for a few more minutes, soothing you as much as possible, before he let his naked hand slide down your face. It rested against your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your cheekbone, before going lower to caress your neck. A soft moan escaped you, and you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“It’s alright,” Skulduggery whispered and stroked his thumb over the side of your throat, making you shiver and let out another soft moan. You closed your eyes and just focused on the sensations rushing through you. There was warmth in your belly, and there was a seldom wetness between your legs. You squirmed a bit and gasped softly when you realized just  _ how _ wet you were. Mevolent cared if you were wet, certainly, but he wasn’t good at  _ making _ you aroused. You had a feeling he only cared because it would make everything easier. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, and you nodded eagerly, not trusting your voice. “Tell me. Talk to me.”

“It---” Immediately, your voice cracked, and you wanted to  _ die _ from embarrassment, but Skulduggery didn’t laugh, didn’t chuckle, didn’t snicker, didn’t make any kind of sound. He simply stroked your throat and eventually moved lower to caress your collarbones. Then tracing your sternum with his index finger, and he pressed his teeth against your lips once more as his hand trailed down to cup one of your small breasts. 

“It feels good,” you managed to croak against his teeth and opened your eyes a sliver. His fingers deftly went under your dress and touched your nipple, and you gasped softly, hips instinctively bucking. “Feels really good,” you continued on a breathy exhale, “I--- I like it.” Liking what was being done to you was a whole new world. With Mevolent, it was a matter of forcing yourself to like it. With his men, it was a matter of keeping your mouth shut so you wouldn’t get in trouble. 

But with Skulduggery… with the walking, talking skeleton, there were no cautions to take, nothing to worry about. There was nothing to be forced. He made you feel safe and secure. 

Skulduggery’s hand squeezed and kneaded your breast gently, his fingertips rolling the nipple and making you utter all sorts of embarrassing sounds. Sounds that he happily absorbed, his teeth still pressed against your lips. Part of you wanted to run your tongue along them while another part found that very unhygienic, bordering on disgusting. In the end, you decided against it, but kept your lips firm against his cold teeth. 

Once finished with your breast, his hand traced patterns into your belly. You automatically sucked in your stomach, even though there wasn’t much excess flesh. 

“I--- it’s not,” you stammered, but Skulduggery shook his head gently.

“It’s alright. Just tell me no, and I’ll stop.” You bit your lower lip.

“No,” you then whispered, “no as in, don’t stop, please. Please, continue.” 

“You sure?” Skulduggery asked and slowly began stroking your belly again, and you nodded, gasping softly. 

“Very sure.”

Skulduggery’s hand was so impossibly gentle as it rubbed your belly, and you squirmed slightly again, gradually relaxing. 

“There we go,” Skulduggery said softly and made you blush a deep red. He chuckled, a soft sound. Steadily, his hand moved lower, finding your iliac crest and rubbing it with his fingertips. It made you shiver and let out a faint moan. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. With Mevolent, it was expected that you do all the touching, all the work. It felt weird and unnatural to lie there and let Skulduggery do all these things without doing anything in return. But then again, he was a skeleton. How much was he able to feel? 

“Do I… can I touch you?” you asked meekly. His hand stopped moving, and you immediately thought you had done something bad. “I’m… I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to---”

“Do you really want to?” He sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe that someone would want to touch him. Or maybe he was just worried you asked because you felt obligated to touch him. You nodded and looked at him, smiling softly. It was a long time since you had  _ wanted _ to do any such thing, and the prospect of being allowed to touch him made butterflies appear in your stomach. 

“Then of course. Do you want me to undress?” You nodded again. He chuckled softly and got up from the cot, and you instantly missed his warm body pressing against yours. Skulduggery quickly removed his clothes and took the time to fold them and put them on his desk. When he returned to you, he was still warm, and you quickly leaned into him again. 

“Is there… anything or anywhere that’s off limits?” you asked and looked down at his body. He shook his head and resumed the gentle stroking of your iliac crest. 

“As long as you do it voluntarily, you can touch me anywhere.” It was odd, to have someone care for you like this. You made a soft, approving sound and began tracing your fingers along his collarbone. Your fingers danced along the bone until they reached his jugular notch, then skirted down his sternum. 

“In fact,” he said, “I encourage you to. It might help ground you and make you feel safer.” His hand slid towards your pubic bone, and while you wanted to focus on your own hand, it suddenly became difficult. You let out a soft gasp as his fingers slipped lower and dipped between your folds. You automatically pressed your legs together, and Skulduggery stopped touching you. 

“Just tell me no, and I’ll stop,” he said again, and his voice was so endlessly soft and kind. With trembling legs, you opened yourself to him, and his hand began moving again. His warm, long phalanges moved with an otherworldly kindness and tenderness, and the more they touched, the longer down they reached, the more your back arched until it felt like you would snap in two. But you didn’t. Instead, you relaxed your body when his fingers withdrew for a second. 

“It’s important to me that this is good for you,” Skulduggery said before touching you again, the tips of his fingers sliding around your entrance and up to your clit where they rubbed in slow, small circles, “so don’t hold back.” 

You let out a soft whimper and spread your legs a bit further, using what little room you had, and let your fingers skirt from his sternum to his ribs, trying to focus both on touching and being touched. Your fingers ran along the edge of each rib, and every now and then he would jerk slightly. You couldn’t decide if it was because it felt good or if it felt bad. About to open your mouth to ask this very question, he was quicker than you. 

“I’m a tad ticklish is all. Do keep going if you want to.” 

You gave a slight nod just as your mouth fell open when Skulduggery slipped a finger inside. Your very core convulsed, and he let out a soft chuckle, started moving his finger. He was so gentle, took it so slow, and it didn’t take many minutes before you found tears welling up into your eyes. You blinked them away and focused on touching his ribs, focused on the faint jerks and the soft sighs he made, focused on the pleasure that started building low in your belly. It was… not entirely new, Mevolent had brought you pleasure before, but it was such a seldom and fleeting feeling that you weren’t sure how to take it. 

“That feels good,” you ended up whispering and immediately felt your cheeks burn in a blush, but Skulduggery simply chuckled, nodded, and started moving his finger a little faster. 

A few moments of that, and he inserted another finger, making you gasp and move your hand to his shoulder in a firm grip. Your legs were still spread, opening yourself for him, and he leaned on top of you as he thrust his fingers, pulling sharp gasps and moans from your lips. His fingers were cold and bony, but you found that it didn’t matter, and that you would rather have his bony fingers than Mevolent’s thick cock. 

Skulduggery pressed his cold teeth against your lips, and you let out a soft squeak before kissing him back. He had no mouth to kiss, no lips to run your tongue along, but that didn’t matter, either. What mattered was the way he leaned against you, the way his teeth insistently yet gently touched your lips, the way his fingers curled slightly within you, the way he let go of shaky breaths he didn’t need. All of that, and so much more, mattered more than you had words to describe. 

Your tongue darted out to lick along each of his teeth while your fingers picked up stroking his ribs, and he hummedand pushed his fingers deeper inside you. They reached so deep it made your back arch slightly, and you made a soft sound in the back of your throat, relaxing again. They curled again and stroked your inner walls, and you became acutely aware of how much you trembled. Trying to force the shivering away didn’t help. Your hand on his shoulder held on even tighter as your world was rocked and turned upside down. Pleasure quickly built in your lower belly, and you were helpless but to cry out. 

Skulduggery then pulled out his fingers and rubbed your clit in small, sharp circles, and this was what did you in. 

Pleasure exploded behind your eyes and turned your vision white - or it would have, if you had managed to keep your eyes open - and you thrust into his hand while whimpering and moaning and uttering totally incomprehensible words and noises. Your hand squeezed his shoulder so tightly that a small part of your brain feared it might snap, but it withstood your force. 

For such a long time, your back arched painfully, but the pain didn’t matter when Skulduggery kept stroking you so gently. He murmured such sweet things against your lips. 

“You’re doing so well.”

“You feel so good.”

“I’m so proud of you.” 

Tears pricked your eyes again, and you sniffled softly, fingertips digging into his bones, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he encouraged you through gentle words and even gentler touches. 

When the intense pleasure subsided, you slumped back against the cot, shaking and breathing heavily. Your fingers only slowly unfolded and left his shoulder alone, but he still didn’t seem to mind. He stopped caressing your clit and instead stroked your belly gingerly, humming lowly. 

“Thank you,” you finally whispered and peered into his eye sockets. Even with no lips, it was clear that he was smiling. 

“Thank  _ you _ ,” he murmured back and kissed you again. Your fingers found his ribs again and continued caressing them. Each fingertip danced over the length of each rib, pulling soft sounds from Skulduggery, and more than once, he pressed against you as his back arched slightly. 

It didn’t take long before your eyes got heavy, and you curled up against his warm body, holding on to the arm that rested over your waist. 

“Thank you,” you murmured again before sleep enveloped you in its warm embrace. 

When you woke up, you were alone. But instead of feeling intense and immediate panic, you felt seldom calm and well-rested. You knew what had happened that night, and while you wished that Skulduggery would have been there when you opened your eyes, you fully understood that he had duties to attend to. 

You sat on the edge of the cot and carefully tried moving your fingers and arm. It hurt and stung, but it already felt a million times better than the day before. You got up from the cot and with heavy feet made your way to the tent entrance, moved the flap to the side, and walked outside. 

The Dead Men sat around the unlit fireplace, deep in conversation that died when you got closer. But true for all of them was that they smiled warmly when you got closer. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dexter said. You blushed slightly and managed to suppress a giggle. 

“Morning, Dex.” 

You sat down between Skulduggery and Ghastly who took a gentle hold of your arm to investigate it. You let him, watching him inspect your arm. His fingers were warm and gentle and moved so tenderly over your skin that you couldn’t help a warm smile of your own as you looked at him. He smiled back. 

“It seems to be healing fine. Skulduggery did a good job on it.” 

“Just like it seems he did a good job with you,” Dexter commented with a grin and pointed between Skulduggery and you. You blushed furiously and almost choked on your breath. Skulduggery seemed entirely unfazed. 

“She needed to relax,” he simply said, and you wanted to  _ die _ . 

“ _ Skulduggery _ ,” you whispered, mortified, and looked away from Dexter, instead focused intensely on Ghastly who turned your hand to study the underside of your arm, acting as if nothing was happening. His fingers traced over the veins and bones, every now and then lifting the arm closer to his eyes to inspect it more closely. You could hear Dexter laugh loudly, no matter how much you focused on Ghastly and his gentle fingers. 

“It’s going to be just fine. You’re lucky you came back to us.”

You nodded and bit your lower lip. There was something that had been gnawing at the back of your mind ever since you left Mevolent’s camp, something that filled you with terror and dread whenever it was pushed to the forefront of your mind. 

“Will… Will he find me again?” you whispered and stared at the ground, embarrassed and ashamed, but for reasons you weren’t entirely sure. Ghastly put a heavy, but gentle hand on yours. In the periphery of your sight, you saw him shake his head. 

“We use magic to camouflage our position and camp, so unless someone actively tells him our location, he won’t be able to find you. You’re safe with us.” 

“But he has magic, too.” You lifted your gaze to look at Ghastly who smiled. 

“Even so, I feel very secure in saying that he won’t be able to trace you. We’re not amateurs, we know what we’re doing.” 

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you,” you hurried to say, “I just… it’s like I can  _ feel _ him in my mind, just out of reach. Always watching me, always on the verge of closing his iron fist around my throat.” As you spoke, your voice got weaker and weaker, and the last few words were barely audible. You lifted your free hand to rub your throat. Faint marks of the collar still stood out on your pale skin. 

Skulduggery put a hand on your shoulder, and you turned your head to him. Only when you looked at his empty eye sockets did you realize there were tears in your own eyes. You hastily wiped them away and cleared your throat, then looked away again. His gaze was too heavy, too much. 

“He won’t find you.” You nodded lightly. Ghastly let go of your arm to instead stroke your cheek, and without thinking, you leaned into the gentle touch. It was so familiar yet strange, and despite trying your hardest, you couldn’t hold back a soft sniffle. 

“It’s okay,” Ghastly whispered, his voice raspy but warm and kind, “it’s okay. You’re safe now.” You nodded again and wiped your eyes, looked at Ghastly and found him smiling a smile that was so endlessly gentle and warm. It took your breath away for a second, made it hard to breathe. 

“Thank you.”

It was all you could say. 

The day progressed, and you spent most of the time sleeping in Skulduggery’s tent. Nightmares as well as dreams filled your sleep, and occasionally, you would wake up drenched in sweat. On one such occasion, you got up and out of the tent. Looking around, you found the camp empty. 

You walked to the tent you knew was Ghastly’s and found him inside, working on a long coat. 

“Ghastly,” you said meekly as you entered, and he turned around, a row of needles in his mouth. He smiled and put the needles in a makeshift pin cushion before carefully folding the coat over the desk. 

“What is it?” he asked and walked over to you, stroking the arm that hadn’t been hurt. His fingers were so warm and gentle, and without knowing that  _ that _ had been the reason you entered his tent, it felt so right and so good you couldn’t help a shaky sigh. Ghastly frowned slightly.

“Is everything okay?” You nodded, thought for a few seconds, then shrugged. With a light tug of your hand, he led you to his cot and sat down. 

“Talk to me.” 

As if these words held some kind of magic - which they might have, for all you knew - you started bawling. You didn’t know exactly what was wrong, or why you were crying, or why you had sought out Ghastly. You explained this to him with a lot of pauses and a lot of sniffling, but he seemed to understand you perfectly. You explained that you were still scared of Mevolent finding you, but that you trusted the Dead Men, but that you also felt like Mevolent was constantly on the verge of finding you. 

Ghastly nodded through your tearful explanation and stroked your hands gently while you talked. Not once did he interrupt you or stop touching your hands, and he felt so warm and safe. Just like Skulduggery, yet entirely different. You couldn’t place it, couldn’t explain the difference if your life depended on it, but you trusted them both equally much. 

‘Maybe,’ you thought to yourself, ‘the difference is that Ghastly is a human, and Skulduggery is a skeleton.’ Ghastly could make human expressions, his eyes could talk, his lips turn up or down depending on what was being said to him. His fingers had flesh on them, not just cold bone. 

Ghastly did his best to calm you down, stroking your hands and telling you again and again that Mevolent wouldn’t be able to track you, no matter how hard he tried, and that the reason he had left you at that particular spot in the forest was because this was where the Dead Men had last been seen. He had counted on the idea that the Dead Men would kill you on sight, simply because you came from Mevolent. 

“W-Why would he d-do that,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes. Ghastly smiled softly. 

“Because, my love, he’s one of the bad guys. He’s a bad, bad person. He does what he wants, when he wants, without consequences. People fear him, and for good reasons. But I promise you, you won’t be left in his hands again. We won’t let that happen. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered and nodded, and Ghastly stroked your cheek slowly and gently. Your head tilted into the touch, and your eyes closed. You sat like that for a while, him stroking your cheek and you just enjoying the soft, human touch that had been denied you for so long. 

“Ghastly,” you said softly, still with your eyes closed, “can I stay with you tonight?” There was a short pause from Ghastly, but he didn’t sound any different when he did speak.

“Are you not happy staying with Skulduggery?”

“I am,” you quickly said and could feel a slight blush crawl onto your face, “but… I don’t know. You’re so… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’ll stay in Skulduggery’s tent tonight.”

Ghastly chuckled, and it was such a warm and wonderful sound that you nearly started bawling again. You opened your eyes a sliver to look at him. He was smiling warmly, his head tilted ever so slightly. 

“Which side of the cot would you prefer?”

\---------

You were quiet while the Dead Men ate their dinner and swapped stories. When Dexter asked you the reason for your silence, you offered up a small smile and a “I’m just tired,”, which he seemed to accept. But you did catch Skulduggery and Ghastly exchange a quick glance. Saracen seemed to study you, and when you looked at him, he smiled, and there was something in the smile and his eyes that told you  _ he knows _ . 

When night came around, and it was time to go to bed, you hesitated to go to Ghastly’s tent. You didn’t know how Skulduggery would take the fact that you wouldn’t stay with him. A part of you was adamant that he would be angry, would be  _ furious _ , would  _ break your bones one by one _ , while another, smaller part insisted that Skulduggery was the best thing that had ever happened to you, that he would understand. 

Before you got to Ghastly’s tent, Skulduggery came over. Your heart immediately started beating faster -  _ he will break your bones and leave you crying _ \- and you feared for what he was going to do or say. But instead of doing or saying anything vile or nasty, he simply gave your hand a gentle squeeze and said good night to you. You had a feeling that he would be smiling if he had had lips, and thus, you smiled back, albeit a bit weakly. 

“Good night, Skulduggery.”

You entered the other tent on shaky feet and found Ghastly already on the cot, the blanket thrown to the side to welcome you. The smile was still on your lips, and upon seeing Ghastly, it grew bigger. 

“Welcome,” he said and moved a bit further to the side, allowing you to lay down comfortably. 

“Thank you. Sleep well, Ghastly.”

“You too.” 

You didn’t immediately fall asleep. Instead, your thoughts whirled and ran free. They ranged from basic survival skills and instincts, to Mevolent, to the Dead Men, to what you were going to do. Were you going to stay with the Dead Men until the war ended? Would they let you? Rations were scarce, and you knew that the Dead Men weren’t as well-supplied as Mevolent. Mevolent had access to more resources simply because he was more feared and well-known than those resisting and fighting him. 

Would Mevolent find you again? And, if he did find you, what would the next step be? Would he capture you first or deal with the Dead Men first? A perverse, bizarre thought entered your mind; you hoped you were more important than the Dead Men, hoped that he would take you back before dealing with them. But the joy was quickly sucked out of that scenario when you realized that he would punish you beyond imagination. A dislocated shoulder would be like getting kissed in comparison to what he would do if he found you again. 

If he found you again, he would never let you go. You would be his, his lover, his pet, his  _ trophy _ for the rest of your life, even after the war ended. The thought was terrifying, and you started shivering. Your eyes hurt. 

“What’s wrong?” came Ghastly’s soft voice from behind you, and he put a warm and gentle hand on your arm. 

“Just silly things,” you answered with a hoarse voice and began curling into a ball. You didn’t get far with that, though, before Ghastly gently but firmly made you turn around to face him. 

“Hey,” he whispered, “What's the matter? You can talk to me.” You shook your head and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

“It’s dumb.”

“If something makes you feel any kind of emotion, it’s not dumb.” You chuckled softly but couldn’t hold back a raw sob. Your eyes closed tightly, and you put a hand over your mouth to mask the following sobs. Ghastly pulled you against him in a tight hug, yet gave you enough time and space to pull back if you wanted to. Which, of course, you didn’t. Ghastly felt safe, Ghastly felt warm. 

“In your own time,” he said quietly and stroked the back of your head and down your back. You nodded against his chest, and your fingers curled in the fabric of his sleep wear. You lay like that for a little while before you found the courage to speak. 

“I… I know it’s dumb, but-“

“What did I just tell you?” Ghastly chuckled and stroked through your hair. You ducked your head. 

“I mean… I’m sorry for thinking about it all the time, but what if Mevolent finds me again? What do we do? And your resources, your rations… they won’t last forever. What happens when our side runs out of resources, be it food or ammunition or time or luck? Are we going to lose the war? Will I have to go back to him? Ghastly, I don’t want to be his for the rest of my life.” 

The more you spoke, the wobblier your voice got, and it ended in a broken squeak as tears stained your cheeks and sobs roughened your voice. 

Ghastly was quiet for a few minutes, and you were starting to fear you had annoyed him into silence when he finally,  _ finally _ , spoke. 

“Mevolent won’t find you, my dear. As for the war, we have more resources than you think. The war is grim and requires a lot of sacrifices, I won’t lie to you. But we’re good at what we do, and we have yet to lose territory. We’re going to win, and you can quote me on that,” he added with a soft chuckle. You managed a small smile and nod. 

“Ghastly?”

“Yes?”

You bit your lower lip, not sure if it was wise to say what you were thinking. Ghastly kept stroking your hair and back in such a gentle manner, and you didn’t want to be kicked out of his tent. 

“What’s wrong with me? I can’t stop thinking about Mevolent finding me. I… I thought about him finding me, and I felt  _ joy _ in the idea that he would take me back. Until I realized he would torture me. Why am I having these thoughts? What’s wrong with me, did he break me?”

This time, Ghastly was much faster to find the words. 

“You’re not broken. He has had a long time to bend and twist you into being what he wanted you to be. He has manipulated you over a long period of time, and you have been exposed to more trauma than anyone should have to endure. You’re not broken, you’re strong for resisting the urge to go back to him.” 

You nodded lightly and sniffled, rubbed your eyes. Ghastly kept stroking your hair and back, holding you so close you could feel his heartbeat. It was slow and calming, helped you relax somewhat. You focused on that, didn’t even realize you had scooted closer. Nor did you realize you were kissing his shoulder. 

Unlike Skulduggery, Ghastly didn’t stiffen. He didn’t let it be known whether the action made him uncomfortable. All he did was smile and card his fingers through your hair. For a few minutes, that was all that happened - him laying with you, stroking your back, playing with your hair. He was so endlessly, impossibly gentle, and the smile on his face never faltered. 

“Do you want anything?” he then asked, taking you by surprise, but in a delightful way. His voice was tender and quiet, held a warmth that no one else could match. Not even Skulduggery, as smooth and sensual as his voice was. 

However, the question made you blush. You hadn’t thought about doing anything with Ghastly Bespoke, but now that the offer was on the table, how could you refuse? 

“I... I think I would like that, yes,” you ended up whispering, heat scorching your cheeks and butterflies appearing in your belly. What you wanted, you had no idea. You just knew that if anyone, aside from Skulduggery, could make you feel good and taken care of, it would be Ghastly. Dexter, Saracen, Anton, Larrikin, Hopeless, Ravel - they all made you feel welcome and like you were part of the group, of the Dead Men, but to you, the tailor and the talking skeleton were something else. 

“Tell me what you’d like,” Ghastly said softly, and his hand slid from your hair and down to your neck. Here, it caressed the flesh tenderly, making you shiver and produce a soft sound. 

“I-I,” you stammered, all of a sudden unable to find the words, “if... if it’s not too much trouble, could I guide your hand?” Ghastly smiled, a warm and kind smile that made your stomach do a somersault. “I-I mean, you can keep touching me like you do now, it’s very nice, and---”

Ghastly cupped your face. “Don’t worry. You can guide my hand if you want to.” You nodded, a tad sheepishly, and took his hand - big and calloused, but so warm and kind - to guide it between your legs. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Getting a bit bold, are we?” he said with a chuckle and leaned in to kiss you before you had a chance to apologise. His lips were fantastic - soft, warm, just the right kind of wetness - and you were sure that his kisses alone could make you come undone. The kiss made heat spread through your body. The butterflies started eagerly flapping their wings, causing your stomach to feel tighter and lighter. 

You noticed that your other hand had been awkwardly hovering in the air for a good few seconds, and you placed it on his bicep. Strong, tense, taut with muscles, it made you giggle quietly. The giggling was cut short, however, when his fingers caressed your inner thigh. The sound you made was soft and laced with pleasure, and you hesitantly spread your legs. 

“There we go,” Ghastly murmured against your lips. The faint vibrations of his lips had your body trembling, and you pressed more insistently into the kiss, pressed into his body. It was hot and strong and taut, and it felt so welcoming. Not exactly home-like - you couldn’t remember your home before being captured by Mevolent, so you had nothing to compare to - but a kind of safety, a kind of kindness that enveloped you and swallowed you whole, in the best of ways. 

His fingers, although calloused from working with needles and sometimes rough materials, were so kind and tender as they skirted up your inner thigh to caress your folds. Sparks spread through your body and made you tremble, caused your fingers to squeeze his bicep tighter. You gasped, a soft, quiet sound, and automatically thrust your hips, pushing yourself into his hand. 

“Do you want me to talk you through it?” he asked after having touched your folds for a few minutes, getting you used to the size and warmth of his fingers. They were bigger than Skulduggery’s skeleton fingers, of course, and while you were nervous how tight you would be if he was going to finger you, you knew you could handle it. You had handled much, much worse. A finger or two would be pure ecstasy compared to what Mevolent had done - or had had his men do - to you. 

“I don’t know, I... I can’t focus,” you said and laughed softly, a tad breathless. Ghastly chuckled and nodded, kissing your forehead and running his fingers tenderly up and down your folds. He caressed you for a wonderful eternity before fondling your clit, and you could have sworn you saw sparks fly behind your closed eyes. You gasped and arched your back slightly, gripped his bicep tighter. Your body was buzzing pleasantly, and your toes curled as Ghastly stroked your clit in slow, small circles. 

“Does that feel good, dear?” he whispered and kissed your cheek, then your neck. You were afraid that if you used your voice, it would betray you, but you did anyway.

“Yeah,” you croaked, “yeah, it feels so good, Ghastly. P-Please, don’t stop.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t a sound that made you feel as if he was making fun of you. On the contrary, it was a warm sound that made your heart ache for something you couldn’t quite place. Not in the moment, at least. Maybe you would be able to later. 

“Oh, I can make it even better. Do you trust me?” 

“With my life.”

“Then just lay back and enjoy.” 

Ghastly stopped fondling your clit, and while this made you want to whine, you trusted him. How he could make it better, you did not know, and even though you were nervous about it, you trusted him. 

You trusted him.

That was the bottom line. 

Ghastly began kissing your face and neck. His lips, though cracked and scarred, were the softest you had ever encountered, and each kiss made you sigh in ecstasy. He kissed down your neck, to your prominent collar bones, running his tongue over the bones before rolling the skin between his teeth. This made you gasp and writhe slightly, putting a hand on his head. 

He continued down, reaching your breasts and cupping both of them so gently. You sighed and closed your eyes, stroked his head and felt each scar that ran across his skin. His hands squeezed your breasts lightly while his fingers plucked and pinched your nipples. As he worked, soft gasps and pleased whines left your lips, and you couldn’t help but arch your back ever so slightly. 

“Oh, Ghastly,” you whispered, and he breathed out sharply in a quiet sound, looked up at you, and then followed an invisible trail down your stomach. Just like with Skulduggery, you automatically sucked in your stomach even though there wasn’t much - if any - excess flesh. 

Ghastly paused to look up at you again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, voice endlessly tender. You shook your head.

“No,” you whispered, “no, please... please, continue. If you want to, of course.” There was a warm smile in his voice when he spoke again. 

“Of course I do. Tell me if you want me to stop, and I will.” You nodded and lay your head back against the pillow again. You noticed you were trembling, that goosebumps had erupted all over your body. You tried to suppress your shivering but it was a lost cause. 

Ghastly took his time kissing your stomach. He made sure to lay his love all over the soft, pale flesh, made sure that no stretch of skin was left untouched. His lips were so soft, and gentle, and kind, and loving, and by the time he reached your mound, you were close to crying with the overwhelming pleasure he sent through you. 

He kissed your mound and gently spread your legs to continue his trail of kisses. Your entire body was buzzing with pleasure, something you knew but hadn’t experienced a lot of. It was something entirely different to feel so much of it all at once. Skulduggery had been good, had been excellent, but Ghastly... what he was doing, and  _ how _ he was doing it... it was bordering on phenomenal. You knew where this was headed, you weren’t stupid. You had fantasized about this many times with Mevolent, but he had never done anything remotely related to it. 

Something you couldn’t blame him for. Why should he give you, a mere prison slave, something so good? You didn’t deserve anything good. You were lucky enough to be alive, you weren’t in any kind of position to demand  _ anything _ . He had made sure to tell you that on numerous occasions. 

But no, you didn’t want to think about that. Not now, when Ghastly was trying to make you feel good. 

Oh, and he  _ did _ make you feel good, so very good. His mouth was on your folds and his tongue was stroking them softly, his breath ghosting over you in such a fantastic way that it left you breathless. You could only scramble to get a hold of the cot and of Ghastly’s head, holding on as if for dear life. 

His tongue, ever so gentle, was warm and wet and stroked up and down for what felt like a wonderful eternity before it touched against your clit.

You very nearly jumped and most definitely gasped, fingers and toes curling tightly. Electricity surged through your body, and you held your breath as Ghastly’s tongue fondled your clit. It made you see stars, made you absolutely speechless  _ and _ breathless, and it was only when Ghastly pulled back that you could breathe again. 

You put a hand on your forehead and laughed breathlessly, eyes closed and thighs trembling. 

“Ghastly,” you whispered with what little air you had left and stroked his head with your other hand. 

“Too much?”

“Yes and... yes and no. Do you... mind continuing?” Ghastly chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“It would be my pleasure, my dear.” 

He kissed down your body again, a bit faster this time but never lacking warmth or passion, and when he reached your clit, your body was tense like a pulled bowstring. But then he started licking, and it was as if it all went away. You sagged against the cot and sighed deeply, fingers curling on Ghastly’s scalp and legs falling even more open, inviting,  _ encouraging _ , him to continue. 

And continue, he did. 

His tongue repeatedly stroked over the sensitive, throbbing bud and made you shudder. When he felt he had lavished enough attention on this particular spot, he began licking in long, firm lines, his tongue easily sliding between your folds and making you positively delirious with arousal. On several occasions, your thighs went to close around his head, and though  _ he  _ never stopped you,  _ you  _ always managed to stop yourself. You didn’t want to suffocate him. 

Finally, tears welled up into your eyes, and you couldn’t help a soft sob. It wasn’t because it hurt, or because you regretted it - no, it was simply because there was  _ so much pleasure _ building within you. Maybe, theoretically, it could possibly also be because you realized what it meant to be treated well. What it meant to not be a mere toy. 

Even now, after having been away from Mevolent for a relatively long time, it still felt wrong to think of him like that. Mevolent had been good to you. He had put clothes on your skinny body, he had fed you and supplied you with clean, running water. Granted, he had also had his fun with you when you weren’t enjoying it. He had let his guards and generals do the same. Not one of them had cared for your pleasure. One of them even seemed to get off on your pain and displeasure. 

It was sickening to think about, and try as you might, you couldn’t push the thoughts away. But simultaneously, Ghastly was working your clit and folds so, so well, and it was impossible not to come.

It was bittersweet, and pleased tears became bittersweet even as they rolled down your cheeks, your core convulsing and body trembling, fingers grasping at the cot and Ghastly’s head. Your breathing was rapid and shallow, your heartbeat too fast to be comfortable. A ball of bile rose into your throat. 

“Ghastly,” you croaked and pushed at his forehead. He obediently pulled back and looked up at you, practically beaming. But what he saw on your face must have been bad, because instantly, there was a frown on his face, and he moved up to your eye-level. It was no doubt meant to be reassuring, but all it reminded you of was how Mevolent used to tower over you before he enjoyed you. 

You crumbled. You curled in on yourself and desperately wanted to empty your stomach, but couldn’t.

Ghastly didn’t say anything. He instead lay down beside you and pulled you against his broad, sturdy chest as you sobbed and sniffled, fingers curling in the front of his shirt. His scent was different than Mevolent’s. Where Mevolent masked his natural scent with heavy cologne, Ghastly’s was much more natural and comforting. It also didn’t give you a headache. 

“I’m sorry,” you managed to whisper after what felt like hours. You were certain that Ghastly had fallen asleep, but he immediately responded. 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he said, and oh, how soft and kind a voice. You promptly sobbed again and put a hand to your mouth, eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

It would be a long time before you would fall asleep, and when you woke up again, it was to Ghastly gently shaking your shoulder. 

“We have to go,” he whispered, urgency bleeding into his voice. You sat up, still not fully awake, and swung your legs over the edge of the cot. 

“What’s happening?”

But you knew it before you had finished the sentence - you could hear horses neighing and whinnying, men shouting, guns being fired. 

Mevolent. 

Instantly, you felt your body freeze, and you couldn’t move.

“He’ll find me,” you whispered, and thousands of images flickered through your mind. All of them filled with unimaginable torture. 

Your heart thundered in your ears, as did your blood, and you could hardly breathe. Broken arms and legs. Cuts deep enough to show off the bones. Dislocated  _ and _ broken limbs. 

You wanted to vomit again.

“He’ll find me,” you repeated. 

“Not if we move, but we have to move  _ now _ ,” Ghastly said sternly and took your hand. Swept up in the mental images of what you were sure would be your demise, you almost screamed. But Ghastly’s scent grounded you, his voice breaking through the fog that seemed to have settled in your mind. 

You looked at him and nodded weakly, following him to the tent’s opening and peeking outside. It was chaos. Mevolent’s men were loudly searching the camp and setting fire to the tents they had already been to. They were on the other side of the camp, but there were only two tents left. 

Where were the others?

Ghastly squeezed your hand tightly before sneaking outside. You followed silently, but wanted more than anything to run for your life. 

You recognized Mevolent’s scent before you saw him. But he saw you  _ first _ , coming out from the forest on a mighty, black steed. 

“Hello, my little one,” he said, and his voice was malice and amusement all wrapped up in one. 

“No,” you whispered, paralyzed. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth, and your throat constricted. Your trembling intensified. 

“Come here. Come back to me.”

“Leave her alone!” Ghastly shouted and pulled on your hand. 

“You did so well. Your mission is accomplished. You led us straight to them.”

“No,” you whispered again and took a step back. Mevolent slid off his steed with an otherworldly grace and landed softly on the ground. He reached out a hand towards you. “I didn’t--- No, I---”

“Join me, and be my queen in this new world we’ll create. Me, and you.” 

“He’s speaking nonsense,” Ghastly spat and tugged on your hand again, “he doesn’t mean any of it. Don’t go back.” 

“Silence,” Mevolent snarled and splayed his hand in Ghastly’s direction. The air rippled and threw Ghastly backwards even though he tried jumping out of the way. “That’s better. Now, come back to me. Let me show you how benevolent I can be.” 

He steadily walked towards you, and you tried to jumpstart your body so you could run to Ghastly and get away. Nothing worked. 

“Please,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. He wasn’t more than five to ten steps from you, why couldn’t you  _ move _ ?!

“Please what, my love? My prized one, how could I let anything happen to you?” His voice had dropped, and there was no longer any trace of amusement. Only malice. 

He reached you. His cologne overwhelmed you and made you blink rapidly. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Ghastly get on his feet again. Mevolent reached out for your face, cupped it with a tenderness he had never showed, and kissed you. 

It was a deep and heated kiss. One you feared to break. One you didn’t  _ want _ to break. Familiarity flooded your senses - his strong, determined, bloody hands on your jaws. His deep voice whispering praise against your lips. His body pressing against yours. His eyes open and locked on yours. 

“My queen.”

Your knees buckled. How could you ever say no to him?

You were on the verge of saying yes when Ghastly tackled him to the ground. Both men fell and growled at each other, delivering punches and trying to get the upper hand. It was all done so quickly, yet no one seemed to win. 

“Behind me,” whispered a velvety voice into your ear and forcefully pulled you back. Skulduggery Pleasant stood with splayed fingers and followed the fight, seemingly waiting for a good opening. 

“Anytime now, Skulduggery!” Ghastly shouted, sounding strained.

“If you would kindly move so I can get a clear shot---”

“Now is not the time for ‘kindly’!”

“If you insist.”

Skulduggery threw a fireball at the two wrestling men, and by some incredible, divine intervention, it hit Mevolent who shouted in alarm. The distraction was enough to allow Ghastly to pull away. Together with Skulduggery, he pulled you away from the scene. You half-crawled, half-sprinted away, pulled along by the two sorcerers. 

You didn’t know for how long you ran. All you knew was that you kept going even though your lungs burned and your legs ached. But you  _ did _ stop at one point, and despite not having the air for it, you immediately vomited against a tree. You gagged and retched until nothing but stomach acid spilled from your lips. You were vaguely aware of a warm hand on your back. 

You couldn’t bear to turn and look at the others. You knew they were there. 

There was silence around you, save for your own pathetic attempts of further emptying your stomach. 

“Easy now,” said a soft, hoarse voice eventually and stroked your back up and down. Tears immediately welled up into your eyes. 

“I don’t deserve you,” you rasped and wrapped an arm around your stomach. It hurt. 

How could you be deserving of a man like Ghastly Bespoke when you had bedded a monster like Mevolent? 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it <3 (As brutal as it was)


End file.
